


This Sad, Doomed Little World

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Drabble, End of the World, M/M, Sweet Dean, angels are really old, brooding castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10352850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: This world and the creatures that live on it are so fleeting, protected from the void by a thin smear of atmosphere. Beneath the crust of the planet an engine seethes. One big eruption - a momentary sneeze in the cosmic scale - and half the planet dies. A too-large meteor manages to hit the tiny sphere - and most of the planet dies. He’s seen it before.





	

This world and the creatures that live on it are so fleeting, protected from the void by a thin smear of atmosphere. Beneath the crust of the planet an engine seethes. One big eruption - a momentary sneeze in the cosmic scale - and half the planet dies. A too-large meteor manages to hit the tiny sphere - and most of the planet dies. He’s seen it before. 

But that’s nothing compared to the scourge of humanity: bristling with weapons since its creation. One wrong move by an idiot leader and the world becomes a wasteland.

Sometimes he thinks the Earth breeds nothing but suffering - a vast, failed trial set up by a bored god.

Castiel can see the end. Even if - miraculously - no terrible disasters manage to befall the planet the sun will die. Everything that was created here will perish in fire, anyway. Sometimes that inevitable end feels like it’s just a blink away - like he can stretch out his hand and run his fingers through the impending doom. 

“You’ve got that look on you, man.”

Castiel blinks up from the book he’s been reading. The library lights are low, only one reading lamp on in the dim library. Dean leans against the wall, hands jammed into the pockets of his robe, a half smile pulling his face lopsided. “Dean,” he looks down. Closes the book gently. “I was just thinking.”

Dean walks up to him and leans down, dropping a tired kiss on his temple. “Stop,” he admonishes. “Stop thinking, man. And come back to bed.”

Castiel hesitates for a moment, his vision pulling like taffy. On one side: death by fire. On the other: tired green eyes, a warm body, a warm soul. A smile gets tugged from him, which blooms into a genuine smile as Dean grins at him and holds out a hand.

“Come on. Whatever’s on your mind, I bet I can get rid of it.”

Castiel puts his hand into Dean’s and allows himself to be pulled up. Dean’s not wrong. He turns out the light and follows Dean back into the heart of the bunker.

**Author's Note:**

> Workin' on my case fic. Gettin' broody.


End file.
